


Where We Stand

by blasted0glass



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Romance, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:56:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasted0glass/pseuds/blasted0glass
Summary: A rational romance story. Our teenage main character is carefully considering whether or not she should date her gaming buddy. Perhaps she is considering it too carefully.





	Where We Stand

“There’s something I need your help with.”

“Normally, you don’t ask for help, you just hand me a stack of notes and ask me if you’re right. And you always are.” Sarah leaned back. “Unless you just haven’t handed it to me yet?”

“No, I haven’t written about this.” It hadn’t even occurred to me that I could, for some reason.

She picked up her soda. “Fran needs some help. Well, let’s hear it.”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know where I stand with Kris, and I was hoping you could tell me how I’d know if I… should ask him out.” She grinned, then she smiled so brightly that I looked away. “You’ve dated before, so I figured you’d be a good person to ask.”

“I knew this would happen!”

"What?”

“I said you would fall madly in love! Like, a week after you two started hanging out?” I could vaguely remember her saying something awkward and laughing, seven months ago.

“You were making a joke. And we’re not ‘madly in love’.”

“I was making a prediction, and I made it _look_ like a joke so you couldn’t tell me I was wrong.”

“Then it doesn’t count.” She was eating a fry, so I continued. “Maybe I should start paying more attention to your jokes.”

“You should!”

“Actually, now that I think about it, you’ve joked about me falling in love with around half of the male friends I’ve ever made.”

“Ignore that. Why don’t you tell me how you feel about Kris?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know,” I exhaled. “I like him a lot as a friend, I respect and admire him. I…” deep breath, “I think he is physically attractive. But I’m not certain that I want to ask him out, or if I would prefer to keep going as we are. I don’t see any evidence that he reciprocates my feelings.” That was mostly true, but I wasn’t ready to reveal everything.

“That’s a stupid problem. Just ask him out, and if he says no, go on being friends.”

“It’s not that simple! If he rejected me, I’d be too ashamed to even be near him. It’d be like… he had power over me. I don’t want him to have to tolerate my presence, to have to be on guard around me.” I didn’t want him to see the pain of dealing with rejection on my face every time he saw me.

“I don’t think it would be that bad.”

“It would be. You forget how many people I’ve rejected myself.” Sarah slumped over, mirroring my posture. It was true: my interest in video games meant I had spent more time around boys than most girls my age. I had been the target of misplaced affections. It was a quick way to lose friends.

“I’m sorry. But hypothetically, if he would say yes, you’d ask him out in a heartbeat.”

“Well… no. Not if I didn’t think our relationship had long-term potential. I’d still rather be friends if I didn’t think we were compatible as… something more. That’s a secondary--no, probably primary--it’s just as important an issue. Do you think we’re compatible?”

“Oh trust me, you’re compatible. You hang out with him like twice a week, right? Drag your computer to his house?”

“Twice a week for one month isn’t that big a deal, in the scheme of things.”

“You’ve been hanging out longer than that.”

“We didn’t hang out twice a week until summer.”

“Okay, fine. Most people play video games over the internet.”

“His connection is faster than mine.”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s also much, much easier to know what’s going on if you can glance at each other’s screen. And explaining a new strategy is much faster in person, and sometimes we just play games over LAN, or we just hang out and talk.”

“I think you’re overthinking this.” I felt my teeth clench.

“You haven’t even given me time to explain everything. I’m not overthinking it.”

“I just know how you do things in general. I think you should ask him out, see how he responds. You need more,” she made finger quotes, “ _data,_ and his reaction should provide plenty.”

“What if asking him destroys our friendship?”

“'If truth destroys it, it should be destroyed', right?”

“It’s ‘whatever can be destroyed by the truth, should be,’ and that’s about beliefs, not friendships.”

“You believe you should go on being friends, so it still applies.” She chuckled. “You’re probably wrong about wanting to be friends. You definitely want to date him.” Sarah didn’t get asked out as often as I did. It was through no fault of hers: she was more socially capable than me and paid much closer attention to her appearance. I just interacted with boys more often, and those interactions lead to opportunities. However, Sarah had tried dating and I hadn’t. “Having a boyfriend is nice, you know?”

“So I’ve been told. But if asking him out means I lose him, I was right to hesitate.”

She shrugged. “You wanted my advice. Just ask him, it’s a lot simpler than all this guessing.” Simpler indeed. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her about my secret. After she dismissed my worries, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

 

\----

 

I was on my second page of considerations when someone knocked on my door.

“Come in.” It was my mother.

“That can’t be homework,” she said.

“No, something for myself. Actually, maybe you can help me with this. How can one tell if a boy is interested in dating her?”

“Kris?” I stared at her. “You hang out with him a couple times a week.”

“It could have been someone else!”

“Oh really?” She folded her arms.

“Well, no. But still. Is it really that obvious?”

“Ah, probably not. Given that you wonder if someone interested in you, it’s probably Kris, but if you hadn’t said you were wondering I wouldn’t have made the connection.” Indicating an interest revealed way too much. It was a problem I kept running into when trying to decide how I would figure out if he liked me--just admitting I wanted to know had too many implications. My mother continued to lean against my door. “Are _you_ interested in dating _him_?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know, not really.”

“And it depends on whether he likes you?”

“Ah.. I suppose it does. Among other things.” I grabbed the first page. “Actually, my list of considerations is longer than I would have thought. I don’t know near enough about him to make a decision yet.”

“Can I see that?” I handed the page over and she began to read it.

“The first few of these are good, but what’s this? ‘What his career will be.’ ‘Whether he’d consider moving overseas.’ Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“I don’t think so, these things are important.”

“They are, but you’re young. One or both of you are probably going to change your mind about everything from here down,” she said, pointing at the page. I wanted to argue: I wanted to say that our current thoughts on these issues were a useful metric even if we changed our minds later. However, that would be trying to justify something I’d already written with something I had just made up.

“I’m trying to figure out how I feel about him, and what questions I could ask to decide.”

“Part of the point of dating is discovering whether your plans are compatible or not. You might surprise each other. For example, you might decide to move overseas even if you wouldn’t have considered it at first.”

“That’s true.”

“Well, you want to know if he wants to date you. That’s an easy problem to solve. Just ask him how he feels.” She handed the page back to me.

“I can’t do that! Because--”

“Because you’ll stop being friends?”

“Yeah.”

“If you want to date him, he should know about it. Don’t you wish he would tell you if he felt that way?”

“What, a game-theory argument about reciprocity?”

“If you’d like. I think it’s more about being a decent human being. If you like him, not telling him while knowing he’d want to know is disrespectful.”

Arrgh. “But I don’t know if I like him!”

“If you have to ask him out to figure it out, so be it.”

“So you’re saying I should ask him out even though I don’t know whether I really want to date him?”

“That’s what dating is for.”

“He’s not some stranger I have to get to know, he’s a close friend I have to make a decision on.” I looked down, and I realized I’d crumpled up the pages. “I don’t think the problem is not having enough data… I just don’t know what to do.”

“You should at least have a conversation with him about the possibility of dating. You can always change your mind later. That’s my advice.”

“That’s basically what Sarah said. Well, thanks.”

“I’m fairly confident you really do want to date him.”

“Sarah said that too. I don’t see how you’d know before I would.”

“You’ve never made lists about dating a boy before.” She turned to leave, but stopped. “There’s one other thing. As a parent, I’m obligated to ask if he’s ever tried anything physical with you. Is that the source of these thoughts?”

“Er, well… kind of?” She turned around very quickly. “No, I mean--not what you’re thinking!”

“Explain.” I did. Halfway through she started laughing at me, and I didn’t appreciate it. “With evidence like that, I don’t know what you’re waiting for!” She turned to leave again.

She didn’t really understand. “Wait, why did you even come to my room?” I called.

“Just to check in with you.”

 

\----

 

The next night, when I went to visit Kris, I wasn’t exactly on my game. We had set up our stations next to each other to play a first person shooter. Normally we worked well together. Weeks of familiarity with the game and each other meant we were skilled players.

That night we were getting thrashed.

“Somebody should put these assholes in their place,” said Kris. He didn’t mince words. A message popped up on my screen with a ping. Kris saw it immediately. An opponent had sent it. The opponent had guessed that I was female, it seemed, or tailored all his insults to assume femininity.

Well, in addition to losing, we were getting trash-talked. Not that unusual. I tried to not take it personally. Kris turned back without a word. I could see that he was fuming, and truthfully, so was I. Anger allowed me to forget all other concerns for a few minutes.

We began to turn the match around. Ah, the power of righteous fury. Every decision was made with single-mindedness, our ruthless reflexes were honed by cortisol and epinephrine. Our opponents could not spare the time to send messages, now. Putting a lot of effort into a single match was risky, because losing hurt more when you deeply, truly cared about winning. We didn’t think about that in the moment, of course.

Kris and I worked together flawlessly. With tooth and nail we were able to gain control of the match. We took the objective and destroyed any enemy that came near. Our three teammates could just disconnect for how necessary they were. It became possible that we would win after all. But then, in the last thirty seconds, both Kris and I died to a lucky grenade and the opposing team claimed the objective.

“We stood too close together while checking our lines,” I said, trying not to let frustration turn to despair. It was hard to keep watching the screen.

“Wait!” said Kris. He stood up and his chair fell over. I stood as well. His kill-cam showed a teammate approaching the objective.

“That person has survived less than a quarter of the team fights this match.” Hope would only make this loss harder to accept.

“No, have faith!” Our teammate continued, taking a circuitous route that would allow him to surprise the enemy. He quickly killed two of the opponents--miraculously, given how he had been playing earlier. “C’mon, c’mon…”

The third opponent tried to stop the onslaught, but was defeated. Our teammate survived and returned the objective to our team’s control.

We won.

“Yes!” Kris and I said at the same time. Without thinking I grabbed him and we jumped up and down, overjoyed. A moment later we disengaged, and Kris held a finger to his lips. His parents were sleeping downstairs.

“I’ve got to tell that guy how awesome he is,” whispered Kris as he pulled his chair up and started typing. I was just glad he wasn’t looking at me. I could feel that my face had turned red.

And now, I knew I needed to do something. Hugging him had been instinctual, and it’s not like we weren’t closer than that already, but I was of two minds about it. Part of me was still soaring from our deserved victory, but another part focused on my pounding heart. The anxiety of the match had made me forget my other anxieties. My stomach flipped over and my face burned. I felt confused.

Unacceptable. I wanted to be of one mind, I wanted my emotions to match my situation. I grinned, but I had to bury my face in my hands. Being pulled in two directions was painful. I would ask him about his feelings as soon as I figured out what to say.

So, naturally, we played video games for four more hours while I thought about it in the back of my mind. I couldn’t just bring it up, it would be too embarrassing. If I didn’t choose my words carefully it would make him less sympathetic. He might misunderstand my feelings. I needed him to know how much it mattered to me, unless it didn’t matter to him, in which case I wanted him to think it was an irrelevant concern.

I was concerned that I wanted to deceive him if that is what it took to remain close to him. Deception was something I avoided as much as possible. For a while I was distracted, disentangling those thoughts.

Also, he hadn’t asked about _that_ yet, our secret, and so I started to doubt myself even further. The night wore on and I could decide nothing.

The rule his parents imposed was that I had to sleep on the couch downstairs if I was going to spend the night. Riding my bike home in the early hours was an accepted and preferred alternative. I’d just come back and get my computer when I woke up the next day.

Except, tonight we played games, and we played, and we continued playing. Eventually we became too tired for FPS, so we switched to Minecraft. That permitted easy conversation and time flew by. Being tired dulls the edges of one’s thoughts, as though the spotlight of conscious attention could be turned down to soften the glare. It was pleasant to be sleep deprived, and for a while we just conversed. I still didn’t know how to ask him if he thought we should date. I didn’t want to go to bed without having decided but I couldn’t come up with anything.

I stood to stretch and with a shock I noticed that the windows of his bedroom had grown lighter. The sun was rising. I had to go home soon. It was now or never.

I turned to him, and _now_ he chose to ask about our shared secret.

“You know, we haven’t danced tonight at all. Would you want to practice now?”

“Ah. Well, I am quite tired...” I really wanted to dance with him, but I didn’t want him to know how much. For some reason. I felt like I couldn’t follow my own thinking.

He’d always treated our dancing so casually. Kris had asked if I would mind helping him practice the waltz a few weeks previously. He was too embarrassed to go to a dance class, and he thought practicing with someone who wouldn’t laugh at his awkwardness would help him become confident enough to learn it for real. Like most people, he didn’t want to make mistakes in public.

He said I was the only friend he would trust to see him that way. He’d said ‘friend’ specifically, emphasizing how non-romantic it was without saying the word ‘romantic’ at all. I had agreed to help him practice dancing.

“You’re right, it’s too late… the sun’s coming up, isn’t it?” he said, eyes widening as he looked at the windows.

“Actually,” I said, “I don’t think it’s too late. I enjoy practicing.”

“Really?”

“Maybe for just a few minutes.”

“Okay,” he said. He put on music for the waltz, and we took up our positions. Hand in hand, hand on shoulder and waist. Face to face, and I could not help but return his smile. I needed to get the courage to ask him how he felt. After ten seconds of quiet dancing, I also needed to come up with something to talk about.

Truthfully, we’d practiced enough. The waltz was easy even when tired. I decided to just ask him, then and there.

“I… I’m really glad you wanted to learn to dance.” _Why is this so difficult?_ I thought for the hundredth time.

“I’m really glad you decided to help me.” We took a few more steps. “This is a lot easier now. I’m probably ready to go to a class for it.”

“Yeah.” Of course, if he started going to a class we probably wouldn’t practice in private any more. “Um… why did you want to learn, again?”

“Because it’s out of character for me. I wanted to be surprising in some way, to have a skill no one would suspect. Well, that and it’s good to have balance and timing, and I need more exercise, and a bunch of other little reasons. But mostly that.”

“Ah, that’s right.” It wasn’t that complicated. If he liked me, he’d never have the courage to do something like this. I was a friend only, this activity was safe because it didn’t _mean_ anything. And yet… could I be wrong about it? My mother thought I was wrong about it. I should just ask him. Except, if I asked him, I’d lose this. I might lose it either way. It felt so good to dance with him, to be in his presence.

I kept thinking about it. Dancing was much more fun than I had expected it to be and the thought of losing the opportunity filled me with an intense despair. Once again I was being pulled in two directions.

It occurred to me I could follow him to his dance class… but then we’d have to dance in front of others, or with other people ourselves. That didn’t sound appealing. And if we both started going to dance classes together, people like Sarah and my mother would start asking questions. They were already making assumptions, especially after I’d asked them for advice.  Why had I even told them I was wondering about it? They’d be asking how this very interaction went.

This had to be dealt with! I needed to know what we meant to each other! I was afraid. I didn’t want our relationship to end. Arrgh, it hurt so much to not know what to do.

“Fran, are you alright?” I let go of him and he took a step back. Without his embrace I started to feel cold, or at least I started to tremble.

“Kris, I…” deep breath. I had to do something. He either was interested in me, or not. We would remain friends, or not. I’d get to dance with him more in the future, or not.

I needed to be strong, to accept whatever would happen. The truth and the future were things I could handle, or even if they weren’t, they were things I would try to accept.

“Fran?”

It was time to discover the truth.

“I’m pretty sure I like you. No.” No mincing words, no shifting the truth. “Kris, I’m interested in you. Romantically. I just… I want to know what we are, so that I can think about it clearly and make plans--not that I’m making plans!--I just need to know. I need to know how you feel, so that I can figure out how I feel as well.” Our eyes met. “What am I to you?”

“I…” he looked away, and my heart plummeted. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve been thinking about it too, but I was afraid we’d stop being close if I brought it up.”

“That’s… really similar to my fear, actually.”

“I doubt it. Aren’t you worried about losing your only male friend, the one who doesn’t try to date you?”

“I’m… wait, what?”

“You complain about it a lot.”

“About what?”

“About the guys online who can’t get past the fact you are female. About how every guy you get close to starts trying to date you.”

“I mean... I guess so. It’s happened a few times. But I surely don’t complain that much?”

“All the time--well, no, not all the time. But often enough. And I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to make the same mistakes they did.”

“You aren’t like them!”

“Because I didn’t try to date you?”

“No! Because if you’d tried to date me, I would accept!”

“I couldn’t know that. Which is more likely: I’m the miracle exception, or I’m making the same mistakes they did?” He grimaced and put his hand on his head, but I could see he was smiling. “You would date me? The outside view says I shouldn’t assume I’m special.”

“But you are. You’re different. Smarter, more cooperative, more deliberate. More interesting! And I actually like you.” Suddenly he laughed.

“I like you too! Of course I like you. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, you’re quick-witted, reliable, brilliant. You’re really, really good at video games. I trust you. You’ve got this… I don’t know how to describe it, like a competence superpower. You take everything so seriously, your thoughts are so deep.” My face began to tingle. He could trust me, he admired my intellect and skill at videogames? These were things that few people seemed to care about, but oddly I felt like I loved him for similar reasons.

I felt like I loved him. My cheeks became even warmer.

I had my half of the answer.

“I… I see. So … um… maybe…?” I still didn’t know what to say.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms. I sank into his embrace and closed my eyes. “I’m not sure what we are, but I know I want to spend more time with you. Let’s just stay like this for a moment.”

“Okay.” It was a relief to not have to look at him, to know he couldn’t see my face. I took a deep breath. His smell was familiar to me. At that moment I felt like a whole person again, like I knew where I was. I stopped worrying about what he thought.

My head rested on his chest. I heard his heart pounding. Mine pounded as well. Almost absurdly, I felt like I could understand each beat. It was a code, and the hidden message was that whatever my feelings, he felt the same way.


End file.
